A Day at the Races
by GothamGrifter
Summary: A retired undercover FBI agent who worked for Tobias Fornell offers her help to the NCIS team when a marine turns up dead at the Pimlico races. Everyone gets more than they bargained for though.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I do not own NCIS or the characters. I am not making money off of this story.

**NCIS: A Day at the Races**

**Prologue: Rocks and Hard Places**

Agent Lynn Simpson couldn't believe her eyes. Her fellow undercover partner hadn't abandoned the construction of a bomb once the other terrorists had left the basement of the apartment building. Instead, Agent Audrey Donnelly continued pouring fertilizer into the container with grim faced determination. Lynn gave the door another glance to confirm their being alone before approaching her partner. She hoped the other woman was just caught up in the character she was playing and was not convinced of the doctrine they had been fed over the previous months.

"Audrey, they're gone," Lynn pulled out her cell phone and started to send a text to the Senior Agent in charge. "Come on, Fornell is going to be here-"

"No," Audrey snatched the cell phone out of Lynn's hands and smashed it with the heel of her boot. "We're going to see this through."

"See what through? We have all the evidence we need to bring these guys down. We need to give Fornell the go ahead now."

Audrey was returning to her work on the bomb. "You go ahead and leave. I'm staying here."

Lynn felt her stomach drop. "For what? We walk away from the bomb and Fornell has all he needs to put these guys away. Why stay longer with these nut jobs?"

"They're not nut jobs."

"What do you call a group of people who want to blow up an apartment building filled with innocents and call it a battle cry for equal opportunity for the races?"

Audrey leveled a determined look at Lynn. "I call it taking back our America."

"Not my America."

"And that," Audrey started connecting wires to the digital clock, "is why I have to do this."

Lynn pulled her gun out and slid the safety off. "Audrey, you've gotten caught up in the case. The characters we play aren't who we are. This is not right."

"Oh, come on, Lynn. You mean to tell me all those years of working undercover, infiltrating various cells of homegrown terrorists and one specific cause never struck a cord with you? You never were swayed by one of their cultural or societal positions?"

"No," Lynn moved closer to Audrey. "We infiltrate terrorist cells because these people are criminals. Nothing they do should be condoned. Audrey, stand down."

"I can't do that, Lynn."

Lynn clenched her jaw and raised her gun. "Step away from the bomb, Agent Donnelly."

"I'll blow us both up before I do that."

"Audrey, you're not giving me much of a choice here. Please, step away from the bomb."

"How could you not understand their point of view? America is for Americans."

"We are FBI agents, it is our duty to protect innocent people."

"It is our duty to protect America."

Lynn studied Audrey's face. They had been involved with the white supremacists group for six months now. There was supposed to be trust between them, absolute confidence in each other and their characters. Now, it came down to Audrey priming a bomb while Lynn held her at gun point. Just when she thought she had faced every possible situation these covert operations could throw at her, she had been dealt with a curve ball.

"Audrey, either you step away from the bomb, or I will be forced to shoot you."

Audrey lifted up the detonator in her hand. "Either way, I die a martyr."

"Please don't make me do this."

"I'm not making you do this, Lynn. Society and our crooked government is making you. Take a stand with me. Send them the message that the racial discrimination of our people will not be tolerated anymore!"

Lynn slipped her finger over the trigger. "Last warning. Put the detonator down."

"God bless Amer-"

The sentence was cut off by a gunshot reverberating off the basement walls.

* * *

Senior Special Agent Tobias Fornell waited in the darkened suburban, shivering and wondering why these busts never happen on a summer night. According to the timeline and GPS locators, Simpson and Donnelly should have contacted him by now. SWAT was waiting around the corner for his go ahead but all contact had suddenly and oddly stopped. It wasn't until he saw three of the cell members come jogging out of the building's lobby that he realized something had gone terribly amiss. He grabbed his radio.

"Go forward with the take down," he radioed to the SWAT. "Three perps just exited the building."

He watched as the team emerged from the shadows and overtook the surprised trio quietly and without incident. Only then did he get out from his car and move toward the restrained men and woman.

"Where are the other two that were with you?" Fornell asked.

"Sir," one of the SWAT members pointed toward the front of the building and Fornell immediately recognized Agent Simpson's willowy form making her way towards them.

"Agent Simpson-"

She paused briefly by his side and handed him her gun. "I'm done, Fornell. I'm done."

He had to almost run to keep up with her. "What do you mean? Where's Agent Donnelly?"

Simpson stopped out of the line of sight of the SWAT team and the arrested trio. He noticed that not only her hands but her entire frame was shaking, almost violently. Her breathing was getting more rapid by the second and he was afraid she was going to hyperventilate.

"Do you need medical attention?"

She shook her head.

"Where's Donnelly?"

"In the basement."

"Is she in danger?"

"She's dead."

Fornell had worked with Simpson on a couple other cases before this one. Her reputation was one of legend and he considered himself fortunate to be handed such a seasoned agent for those cases. A trust had developed, faint but nevertheless present. He put a steadying hand on her shoulder and pushed her into a sitting position on the curb of the sidewalk.

"Tell me what happened."

"She bought into the group's philosophy. She was going to carry out the bombing tonight." Simpson shrugged as her face became pinched. "She gave me no choice."

Fornell looked down at the gun in his hand. "You shot her."

"I told you she was too young for this length of a mission. She was only twenty-nine."

Fornell wrapped the gun in his handkerchief until he could place it in an evidence bag. There would be a hearing but he was certain that Simpson wouldn't be found at fault for the shooting. It wasn't the first time that an undercover officer was forced to take drastic action in the middle of a case.

"We'll head back to the office and I'll call in a counsellor for you-"

Simpson shook her head. "I can't do this anymore, Fornell. You're going to have to put me at a desk until I retire."

"And that would be a waste of an undercover agent like yourself."

Simpson stood up and brushed herself off. She looked steadier than before and had more determination in her eyes. "I'm done, Fornell. I shot my partner. No one in their right mind is ever going to work with me again. And quite frankly, I couldn't go through this again. I'm getting too old for this anyway."

"You're thirty-five! You're at the top of your game!"

"I'm thirty-nine and I'm in the bottom of the ninth. Desk or quit."

Simpson had a nickname around the agency: The Chameleon. She had been through so many undercover operations and had played her part seamlessly. She was indispensable to the Agency and he wasn't about to let her just walk away from her job just like that.

"I'll desk you until you feel up to returning to the game."

"Not going to happen." She started to walk away. "My letter of resignation will be on your desk tomorrow morning."

And just like that, the Chameleon was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: I'm sorry this chapter is so short. I will try to make the next one longer. And a huge thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far! Thank you, thank you!

**NCIS: A Day at the Races**

**Chapter One: Grandstand Discovery**

Lynn was focused on the stop watch in her hand and listening for the sound of thundering hooves to make their way past her position at the quarter pole. She didn't know one of the jockey's was standing behind her until he had tapped her on the elbow with his whip. A wise decision since it startled her enough to send her into a defensive stance until she realized who it was. Had he been taller or closer, he would have been sporting a broken nose.

"Neil! I'm watching a horse breeze," she snapped, returning to the stop watch and track.

"I wouldn't disturb you if it wasn't important," the jockey said to her.

The two year old filly finally made the turn and Lynn stopped the watch with a frown. "Horse is running like it's dragging a 50 pound bag of cement. What's so important, Neil?"

"It's, uh, it's..." the jockey pointed up to the grandstands.

Lynn saw a couple janitors standing around with their push brooms and looking nervous. There had only been one race so far in the season so the prep of the grandstands was becoming an every morning occurrence. It wouldn't be the first time the jocks had played a joke on her since her return to the track. Everyone at Pimlico knew she had walked away from a twenty year career in the FBI to re-enter the race horse business her family had started. The first month she had been there, the jocks had reported close to 34 dead bodies, drug deals and prostitutes to her personally only to find they were making fun of her.

"If this is another joke, Neil-"

"No ma'am," the kid shook his head. "Not after the last time you threatened to sue the jock's club for harassment."

Lynn pocketed the stopwatch and started towards the grandstands, still not convinced this was legit. "What is it this time? Needles? Crack pipes?" She cast a scowl down at the jock. "Condom wrappers?"

"It's, uh, it's a b-body."

_So they're going with that one again, _she thought to herself. She took the steps two at a time until she had reached the level where the janitors were standing around whispering. "Gentlemen," she greeted.

"We found 'im about ten minutes ago, ma'am," the oldest janitor said as he pointed up to one of the boxes. "He's in a uniform but we didn't recognize it."

"I say he's navy," another janitor spoke up, "but John thinks he's a marine."

"Any sign of life?" Lynn asked.

All the janitors looked away from her, a couple of them looking a little green.

"I see. Did any of you call the authorities?"

"Aren't you an authority?"

Lynn bit the inside of her cheek to keep from reprimanding the group of men but decided against it. "Go get some caution tape and tape off the entire section of stands. Don't let anyone come near this section until the police arrive."

The janitors left to do what she asked as she and Neil climbed up the box that had been pointed out to them. She could smell the copper of blood as they came closer and realized this wasn't a prank. There was a small pooling of blood seeping out the plywood box and running down the concrete steps. She put her arm out and kept Neil behind her.

"Don't step in that," she said.

"No worries there."

Which ever janitor had guessed a marine had been correct. Despite the uniform being soaked with blood, the khaki coloring still showed through in some areas. Lynn pulled out her cell phone and dialed Fornell's number. He answered on the second ring.

"Hello, stranger."

She briefly smiled. "Hello, sir."

"What can I help you with, Lynn?"

"I just wanted to give you a heads up and possibly have you call your friend over at NCIS."

"What friend at NCIS?"

Lynn shook her head at the teasing in Fornell's voice. She had to hear all the stories, good and bad, about one Jethro Gibbs whenever she and Fornell were stuck on stakeouts. "We have a dead marine out here at Pimlico. I figured you and NCIS might want first crack at the scene before the locals get wind of it."

"I know you've been out of the game for a year now, Lynn, but if this is a marine, it's in NCIS's court."

Lynn crouched down next to the body and tried to get a better look at the body without touching it. "Yeah, but his head's been shaved and his throat slit. It looks like how a terrorist cell deals with traitors, at least a couple of them."

Fornell released a sigh. "Alright then. We'll head out."

"Janitors found him so talk to them first. I'll be at my barn all day so you can talk me to there." She heard Neil behind her retching. "Oh, and Fornell?"

"Yeah?"

"Watch out for the box across from the one with the marine. A jock just threw up in it."

* * *

Tony DiNozzo twirled a pen in his hand as he tried to stare down Ziva who was trying very hard to concentrate on her email. Or whatever she was typing on her computer. She was doing that a lot lately.

"So, Ziva, did you have any special plans with Ray this weekend?"

She didn't miss a keystroke. "Not your business."

"Aw," Tony sat up in his chair, "is this trouble in paradise for the two star crossed lovers?"

"Once again, Tony," she flashed him one of those ambiguous smiles, "none of your business."

"I think it is my business," Tony stood and started to amble his way over to her desk. "If you're little heart break is going to affect the quality of your work on this team-" A sharp and sudden pain to the back of his head stopped Tony in mid-sentence.

"Whose team, DiNozzo?"

"Yours, boss." Tony watched Gibbs open the top drawer of his desk and quickly returned his own, knowing what was going to come next.

"Grab your gear," Gibbs announced. "We have a dead marine at Pimlico."

"The race track?" McGee perked up.

Tony couldn't let this one pass, not with the back of his head still stinging from Gibbs' wake up call. "No, McObvious, Pimlico the Dumping Ground for Dead Soldiers."

"Do not worry, McGee," Ziva spoke up. "I did not know what Pimlico was. Is this race track for mash car?"

Tony paused in gathering his stuff trying to figure out what she meant. Apparently, Gibbs beat him to it on his way to the elevator.

"That's Nascar, Ziva and no. Pimlico is for horse racing."

"Not today, it's not," Tony added as they all gathering into the elevator.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: Thank you so much all your kind reviews and alerts! I greatly appreciate them!

**NCIS: A Day at the Races**

**Chapter Two: Barn 15**

The flashes from the cameras didn't bother Gibbs anymore. He was used to the initial burst of brightness that forced him to focus around the bright spots left on his retinas. The marine was right where Fornell told him he would be: slumped down in one of the grandstand boxes, bloodied and very much dead. McGee was waiting for the hand held fingerprint scanner to come back with an ID.

"Here we go," McGee announced. "Lance Corporal Andrew Reilly. Stationed at Quanico and waiting to be deployed to Afghanistan next month."

Gibbs bent down next to the body. "Service record?"

DiNozzo was flipping through files on his phone. "Clean, boss. Upstanding citizen and marine from the looks of it. I'll be able to dig deeper back at the office where I won't be limited to a six inch screen."

"It's eight inches, Tony," McGee corrected. "People read books on their smart phones."

"Sure they do, McLame. People who lack enough upper body strength to hold an actual book."

Gibbs saw Ducky and Palmer heading up the stairs with their equipment. "DiNozzo, McGee, go talk to the janitors that found him. Ziva's talking to the jockey right now."

Ducky set down his bag outside the plywood box where the marine was lying. "And what of the ex-FBI agent/horse trainer that made the call to our friend Agent Fornell, Jethro? Our friend, who by the way, pulled in behind us."

"Haven't talked to her yet, Duck. After I hear what you have to tell me, Tobias and I will head over to meet the horse trainer."

Palmer was already taking the liver temperature. "Looks like he died sometime yesterday, early evening most likely. I'll check the weather for last night when we get back to autopsy, see what the low was and I'll have a more specific time."

"Yes," Ducky lifted up the head to reveal a deep gash across the marine's neck, "spring temperatures play havoc with time of deaths. The drop between day and night fluctuate so greatly-"

"Duck," Gibbs interrupted, "anything useful?"

"It appears the horse trainer was correct in her assumption of this being a statement of retaliation for a crime against an organization. The cut across the neck is clean, showing the hand that did it was steady. The head being shaved the way it is," Ducky pointed to patches of already short hair that had been left, "was done on purpose."

"As proof the killer isn't a barber?"

"As a sign to whoever finds him would know he was a traitor." Ducky stood up and started pulling out a body bag. "In the times of the second world war, French women deemed as traitors had their head shaved and were then paraded through the streets as the ultimate humiliation of treason."

"Or else they had their throat slits and dumped on a race track."

Gibbs turned to see Tobias Fornell making his way up the stairs. "Tobias."

"Jethro. Any more news on our marine?"

Gibbs shook his head. "Not yet. Ducky seems to agree with what your agent told you about the manner of the killing."

Tobias gave the marine his own brief look over. "Lynn's seen a lot in the line of work. If anyone would recognize a terrorist cell killing, it would be her."

"Any reason we should suspect her?"

"Lynn? No way," Tobias shook his head. "She's found herself in many a jam being undercover but she never compromised herself. There's not a chance she would kill someone to send a message."

Gibbs started to walk away from the body and waited until he and Fornell were by themselves. "She shot her partner a year ago and then took early retirement, Tobias. A year later a dead marine shows up on the same race track where she happens to be a trainer. Seems a little too coincidental to me."

"What about rule number 39, there is no such thing as a coincidence?"

Gibbs gave him a brief smile. "What about it?"

* * *

Lynn had rushed back to her barn after finding the marine in the grandstands and immediately headed up into the hayloft. She went to the tack trunk that was hidden behind bales of hay and straw and pulled it out to the middle of the floor. After she had left the FBI, she couldn't bring herself to destroy all the case files and notes she had painstakingly compiled on her own. Not wanting to keep them in her home, stashing them in a forgotten tack trunk in the hayloft of her barn seemed to be the best hiding place. She unlocked the padlock and opened the wooden lid.

Years of cases stared back at her, memories passing through her mind as she flipped through the folders looking for the ones that interested her. So many years, so many characters that she had to play. She had always assumed that once the cell was broken up and everyone was arrested, she could shed that character with the handcuffs and costume she was forced to wear. She should have know it would never be that easy. That sometimes, those characters followed her home and assimilated into her life.

She relocked the trunk and shoved it back behind the bales of hay before going back down in the barn. She told Adam, her barn manager, that when the federal agents showed up to let them into her office. Once that was taken care of, she shut herself in the barn office and spread out the three files in front of her. It wasn't the gun runner or cocaine distributer that bothered her but the third case file...the white supremacist group she had infiltrated last. Whenever she closed her eyes she could still see Audrey's face set in hard lines as the detonator was raised and Lynn bringing her gun up-

A loud knock at the door startled her out of her thoughts. She took a couple deep breaths and tried to push Audrey's death out of her mind. "Come in."

Fornell was the first one into the office, looking like his normal, semi-serious self. Despite her resigning, she still kept in touch with Tobias Fornell. Lucky for her, his daughter Emily enjoyed riding horses and who better to give her lessons than a trusted ex-agent.

"You traded in your office at the Bureau for this?" Fornell asked with a grin while he shook her hand.

Lynn shrugged. "Just swapped one horse's ass for another." Then she noticed the other agent that had followed Fornell into the office. Despite the forewarning Fornell had given her, she realized he must be Gibbs more from his attitude than anything. She extended her hand in his direction. "Agent Gibbs, I presume?"

His handshake reminded her of her grandfather's which wasn't surprising to her at all, both being Marines. "My reputation precedes me?"

Lynn gave him a half smile. "I did work with Fornell for a few years. Your name did come up on especially long and boring stakeouts."

Fornell cleared his throat. "So, what files did you pull?"

Lynn turned back to the three files on her desk and picked up the top one. "These are my notes on Alexander Lavrov, a gun runner for a Russian mob. Despite the Russian ties, they did shave a couple women's heads."

"Why are you hesitating with Lavrov?" Gibbs asked.

"The women that he targeted, he did so for infidelity, not treason. And he never did it to the men although he was always open to new forms of statements." Lynn picked up the second folder. "Next, we have Paul Kendrick. He was linked with receiving and distributing cocain in the US from one of the many drug cartels in Mexico. They did both the throat slitting and the shaving of the head because Kendrick's wife is from France. Kendrick would only shave the head of a man if he had offended his wife in one way or another."

"And the third?" Fornell prompted.

Lynn just handed him the folder. "L.J. Smith."

"Ah," Fornell took the folder and tucked it underneath his arm. "The leader of the white supremacist group."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "Your last case, Ms. Simpson?"

Lynn crossed her arms. "You know about that?"

"Someone like you walks away from a stellar career record for undercover work is bound to start the rumor mill flowing."

"Well, allow me to clear up the rumors. I shot my partner and it didn't sit well with me. Figuring it would affect my ability to do my job, I took early retirement. Does that clear things up?"

Gibbs gave a brief nod. "For now."

Lynn forced herself to relax her jaw as she turned her attention to Fornell. A year later and a new life still did nothing to heal that gaping wound. "Those files are my own personal notes. The FBI has all the official paperwork on those three men."

"I'll get them back to you as soon as I can," Fornell promised. "You have my number if you think of anything else."

Gibbs handed her one of his business cards. "I'll be in touch."

Lynn had worked with enough investigators to know that lines of communication would always have to remain open. Playing nice was going to have to be a priority. "Fornell has my cell number. You can always reach me on that if you have any questions about your case."

"Forget the case," Gibbs shot Fornell a wary look. "I want to know what was said on those stakeouts."


	4. Chapter 4

**NCIS: A Day at the Races**

**Chapter Three: Rule 39**

_Rule #39: There is no such thing as coincidence_

Tony DiNozzo dropped his backpack next to his desk. "Did anyone get a look at her?"

"At who?" Ziva answered, settling in behind her desk.

"The Horse Whisperer."

McGee shook his head. "You mean the horse _trainer._"

"Whatever, Mr. McEd. Did you see her?"

"Nope," McGee said. "But I heard she was ex-FBI. I might be able to pull her personal file and get a picture."

Ziva let out an exasperated noise. "How is this relevant to our case?"

Tony leaned back in his chair. "Lynn Simpson...the name is so familiar."

"Got a picture," McGee announced.

Tony stood up and started to make his way over to McGee's computer. "She look like John Malcovich from _Secretariat_?"

McGee smiled. "No, more like Diane Lane."

Tony looked at the personnel picture of the Lynn Simpson which was the equivalent quality of a drivers license photo. But McGee was right, she did resemble Diane Lane slightly. But that familiarity he had when he heard her name only increased when he saw the picture. He knew her...somehow.

"She is a very attractive woman," Ziva said, standing next to Tony. "Her features are ordinary, hair color light shade and easily dyed to change her appearance. Pretty enough to put people at ease. She would make a very good undercover agent."

McGee clicked on her service record. "She did. Her arrest and conviction rate were stellar. She stayed undercover for months at a time, waiting for solid information to put drug dealers and terrorists away for good. She has about thirty busts on her record, ninety percent conviction rate."

Tony frowned. "How do I know her?"

"Perhaps you dated?" Ziva offered.

McGee smirked. "And she broke up with you."

"No, too old for that," Tony shrugged. "I make it a habit to always date someone who is at least eight years younger than me. Keeps it fun, exciting-"

"And severely off task." Gibbs breezed past them, dropping a stack of files on McGee's desk.

"Sorry, Boss-"

"Save it, DiNozzo," Gibbs cut him off. "Each of you take a file and find out what you can. Fornell should be dropping off the official paperwork later on today."

Tony grabbed one of the files and gave one last look at the picture of Simpson before McGee closed the window. Maybe if he stopped thinking about so hard he would remember where he had seen Simpson.

* * *

Dr. Donald "Ducky" Mallard paced a few turns around the autopsy table, giving the deceased marine one last look over before Gibbs made his way down for the briefing. Sometimes things made themselves known but most of the time, Ducky's thorough investigation didn't leave anything to be discovered. This seemed to be the case with Lance Corporal Andrew Reilly.

"So, Dr. Mallard," Palmer interrupted cheerfully, "what did he say?"

"Not much, I'm afraid."

"Maybe he's a strong and silent type."

"Unlike you, Palmer," Gibbs answered as he entered autopsy. "What do you have for me, Duck?"

"Ah, Jethro, I'm afraid I don't have any new and exciting news, just more details." Ducky turned to face his friend and motioned to the neck wound. "Abigail is currently working on the exact knife that caused this mortal wound. From my observation, I would guess that it would be an Army issue Ka-Bar but I lack the machinery to back that up. But before that final wound was inflicted, our dearly departed did suffer a beating."

"Bad enough to kill him?"

"No," Ducky shook his head. "But enough to allow his captor or captors to gain control over him. I would assume he was beaten and shaved elsewhere, taken to the racing grounds where they slit his throat and left him in the grandstands to bleed out."

Gibbs made his own passes around the body on the table and Ducky watched his line of vision. The bruises on the face, shoulders and torso...the straight line cutting across the neck...defensive scratching on the hands. Gibbs stopped and pointed to the hands. "Any evidence?"

"I sent what I found up to Abigail but I'm afraid there wasn't any organic material to pull DNA from. Whoever did this, was a professional."

"You think he was a target or a message?"

"I think it's too soon to tell. There are many a shady thing that happen at a race track. It could be mere coincidence that an ex-FBI agent is now working there but then again, I am well aware of Rule 39."

A ding at the corner of the room alerted them to Abby trying to communicate from her lab. Ducky and Gibbs made their way over to the small monitor and greeted Abby.

"Test results already, Abs?" Gibbs asked.

Abby's smiling face peered back at them, her music blaring in the background. "There wasn't a whole lot to test. These guys were thorough. The knife that was used was a military issue Ka-Bar, one that the Army uses specifically. The scrapings from underneath the fingernails didn't have any DNA in them."

"What did they have?" Ducky asked.

Abby's grin faltered. "Wood splinters from the grandstand box. Apparently after they slit his throat, he tried to stand up to get away by clawing at the box."

Ducky nodded. "That would also explain the splinters found in his hands. So much for those being defensive wounds."

"I'm still waiting on the blood work and tox screens though," Abby continued. "I may have more information for you later."

Gibbs gave her a nod. "Keep me updated, Abs."

Ducky sighed. "I'm afraid Lance Corporal Reilly has given me all the information I can muster from him but I'll let you know if I find anything else."

Gibbs gave his thanks and headed out of autopsy. Ducky returned to the body of the marine and stood silently for a moment over him. "If you have anything else to say, Mr. Reilly, now would be the time."

* * *

Gibbs checked his watch when he stepped into the elevator. Three hours had passed since they had returned from Pimlico. Ducky's autopsy was in it's final stages, Abby's report was in the same stages. Fornell should have dropped the files off and hopefully Tony, McGee and Ziva had some updates for him by now. He had taken the time to do a background check on Lynn Simpson and found exactly what Fornell told him he would: nothing. But that didn't mean he didn't have to keep an eye on her. His gut was telling him she was either involved or a target.

When he stepped off the elevator, his three agents were flipping through the suspects on the plasma which meant they had something. One quick glance to his desk showed Fornell still hadn't shown. Gibbs checked his cell phone...no missed calls. If he still hadn't heard from him by the time his team was done briefing him, he'd call Fornell himself.

"What do you have for me?"

Tony gave him a less than confident look. "Not a whole lot, boss. We found this guy," Tony motioned to the picture already on the plasma, "Mr. Alexander Lavrov was in Russia visiting family for the last month. His sister just had a baby. Aw."

Gibbs forced down a grin. Leave it to Tony to include a picture of said sister and baby. "Next."

McGee clicked over to the next picture. "Paul Kendrick was busted last week in Fredrick, Maryland on drug charges. He's been in jail the entire time."

"Which leaves us," Ziva added, "with L.J. Smith."

"Not to be confused with our own L.J.," Tony quipped which resulted with a swift smack to the back of the head.

"Smith is unaccounted for," Ziva continued. "It seems he has fallen off the sonar since Agent Simpson's operation a year ago."

"Radar," Tony corrected. "He fell off the radar."

"I knew what she meant," Gibbs said. "Bank records?"

McGee shook his head. "Nothing, boss. He's been completely quiet since the take down. We're looking into his associates though."

"Keep working on it," Gibbs pulled out his cell and started to dial the number when his desk phone rang. Thinking it was Abby, he answered it with a "yeah."

"Is this Special Agent Jethro Gibbs?" a female voice that was definitely not Abby asked.

"Yes, it is."

"This is Ann with Union Memorial Hospital in Baltimore. I'm calling you at the request of a Special Agent Tobias Fornell."

Gibbs sat down at his desk and started writing down the name of the hospital. "Is he alright?"

"Mr. Fornell was involved in a car accident earlier today and is in surgery right now. Unfortunately, that is all the information I am authorized to give you. Since he specifically asked me to contact you, the doctor will be able to give you information on his condition after the surgery."

"Was his ex-wife called?" Though Gibb's thoughts were more with Emily than Diane.

"Yes, sir. I just got off the phone with her."

Thankful he didn't have to make that phone call, Gibbs thanked Ann and told her he would be there as soon as he could.

"Everything alright, boss?" Tony asked.

"Fornell's been in a car accident." Gibbs grabbed his gear just in case he didn't make it back to the Navy Yard that night. "He's up in a Baltimore Hospital."

"John Hopkins?"

"Union."

Tony grabbed his own stuff. "I know where that is. I'll drive."

Gibbs gave him a look.

"Okay, you drive. I'll direct."

Gibbs turned to McGee and Ziva. "Keep going through Smith's associates. Call me if you find anything."

When the elevator doors closed, Tony looked over at Gibbs. "How is he?"

"Don't know yet. He's in surgery."

"Rule 39?"

Gibbs nodded. "That's a pretty good bet."


End file.
